


We Might Be Related

by ArminALeg



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M, Pseudo-Incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2015-09-10
Packaged: 2018-04-20 02:12:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4769675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArminALeg/pseuds/ArminALeg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas (Thor) and Luke (Loki) are separated when their parents divorce - Loki with Momma Frigga and Thor with big bad Odin.  They live on without hearing from the other for years. They meet online without knowing the other is their brother and agree on a date and meet up at a café. They pretty much go gaga for each other and do cute fluffy things until they meet the parents and pretty much get their hearts crushed by the fact that they’re siblings. Mumsy and Papa Odin think that they’ve sought each other out to reunite with their brother, when really Thor and Loki are just trying to figure out a way to tell their parents that Loki's wand was in Thor's wizard sleeve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Might Be Related

**Author's Note:**

> Bear with us on the whole name thing, it will be explained in later chapters. Enjoy!

                In a luxurious Manhattan apartment, an ear splitting scream shatters the lovely morning peace.

                “Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!”

                A hulking mass of tangled sheets and blond hair falls off the edge of the bed as Thomas, more formally known as Thomas Uru Borson, tries to get his bearings. He manages to pull the sheets from his face and sits up abruptly, then immediately regrets it. Those last two bottles of Macallan were a mistake.

                “Fuck, who the fuck is screaming?” he mutters, while trying to locate some pants without ending up face first on the floor. It’s a shrill scream, female most likely and – _shit she’s still here-_ he hurries out of the bedroom and into the kitchen where a skinny red head, in nothing but an over sized t-shirt, has taken up refuge on top of his dining table and has armed herself with a spatula. The table is surrounded by dogs.

                “Thomas!” that ear splitting shrill is still in her voice, how had he not noticed that last night? He looks over to Petra, his elderly house maid, who is studiously re-cleaning the pristine coffee table and ignoring their various states of undress. Bless her patient soul.

                “Franny, please, you’re overreacting”

                “It’s Freya, and you never told me you had dogs, asshole. I hate dogs,” she says with a pout. That hurts, because these dogs are like family to Thomas. Baldur, the German Sheppard, comes over and gives Thor’s bare toes a lick before turning back to the table and trying to lick Freya’s feet.

                “Right, Freya, sorry about that, don’t worry they won’t hurt you, they’re friendly.” He offers up his hand and his best I’m-a-lovable-puppy smile to help her down from the table, but she’s not having it. He has to wrangle the pack up in the guest room before she even sets foot on the ground. After that it’s a whirlwind of hastily thrown on clothes and curt words as Thomas tries, and fails, to gently get the point across that last night was the product of too much whiskey and impulsivity, it probably doesn’t help that he rejects her offer to cook breakfast too. With a sigh of relief once she’s finally out the door, he realizes he has seven hungry dogs to feed and walk before he leaves for work. Petra is giving him the I-regret-working-for-you look. It goes nicely with the These-white-people-are-crazy head shake. Thor is quite familiar with both.

                It’s so hard being young, rich and handsome.

                Thomas is beneath a 1981 Chevy Silverado at Carl’s Garage, his current place of employment since graduating from an equal parts prestigious and pretentious university with a business degree, when he gets a call from Father. Yes, Father with a capital “F,” (for fucker) especially when your father is the intimidating CEO of a multimillion dollar company. He wipes the grease stains on his pants and answers his phone, expecting the worst.

                “Hello, Father.”

                “How difficult can it be possibly be?” Odin’s voice comes across calm and neutral, a sure sign that he’s seething inside.

                “Father, before you begin, it’s –“

                “NO. You listen to me, son. I ask you to do one simple thing. Take the young heiress out on a date. That’s it.  Reservations at the most exclusive restaurant were already booked for you. You just had to wine and dine her and turn up the ol’ Borson charm. Then escort her to her waiting car and if all went well she would grace you with the privilege of a second date and perhaps a little kiss.” Thomas has to roll his eyes at this, because _seriously what decade does he think we’re leaving in?_ “But instead you make a fool of yourself; you consume three bottles of the most expensive liquor in New York - ” _Really?_ Thor doesn’t even remember paying the bill.  “- you take her back to your apartment, screw her, then shove her out once she’s been attacked by those mutts you keep.”

                “They are not mutts and they didn’t attack her!”

                “And of course I have to find out all of this from her dear brother, this morning, over the phone,” Odin finishes with a sigh. Thomas takes a deep breath to keep from lashing out with anger.

                “Father, I sincerely apologize for my behavior, but –“

                “This is getting tiring, my son.”

                “I don’t appreciate it when you try to force these women on me solely because you think you can gain some sort of business deal from it.”

                “They are certainly a step up from your usual…floozies.”

                “Father!”

                “Like that Sif woman, enabling you to do whatever you please.”

                “FATHER!” Thomas screams, and the sounds echoes around in the alley behind the garage. How dare that man insult Thomas’s oldest and dearest friend. Sif is the kind of woman you can count on to have your back in a fight, and she looks good while doing it. She has seen Thomas through the good, the bad, and everything in between. There’s silence on the line for awhile before Odin speaks again.

                “Thomas, I have tolerated your career choices, I have tolerated your hobbies, I have tolerated your promiscuity, but it needs to end somewhere. Eventually, you need to grow up.”

                “I’m 26, I have grown up, I can make my own decisions!”

                “And when I was 26, I had already taken over my father’s company and I was married with two children.”

                “That’s great, Father, and how well did _that_ work out for you?” The words are out of Thomas’s mouth before he even has a chance to think about them. He immediately regrets them. There is a long moment where Thomas is wallowing in guilt before Odin finally responds.

                “You are a cruel and spoiled child.”

                At those words, Thomas hurls his phone at the alley wall, watching in satisfaction as it shatters into a million pieces on the asphalt. It’s a brand new phone, the latest model that just came out last month. He’ll replace it tomorrow.

                Five hours later, Thomas ends up at his favorite bar wallowing in self pity (i.e. drinking whiskey) and trying to ignore the fact that his Father is an asshole. Then, Sif plops down in the stool next to him.

                “I’ve been trying to call you, thank God you are a creature of habit and I know your usual hiding spots,” she says with a scowl.

                “I’m not hiding.”

                “Sure you aren’t.” She picks up his glass and downs the rest of his whiskey. “Now are you going to tell me what’s got your designer panties in a twist, or am I gonna have to beat it out of you?”

                Thomas rolls his eyes at that and tries to hide his smile. This is why he loves Sif. Then he asks, “Do you want to come over?”

                She tilts her head and gives him the I-think-you’re-an-idiot-but-I’m-going-to-ignore-it look. “That better not be a euphemism for ‘let’s have sex’”

                They have sex.

                In the aftermath of their fucking, Sif, as always tries to have ‘The Talk.’ This is the talk where she tries in every way possible to convince Thomas to tell his dad that he’s gay, (well, bisexual to be more accurate) but Thomas, as always, will refuse until his dying breath.

                “I don’t know what you are more afraid of; dating a guy or that your dad might be homophobic,” Sif says as she’s pulling on her clothes. Thomas rolls over onto his stomach so he can look at her. Sif has a well built body from boxing, but it’s not overdone; she still has the curves of an hourglass. Thomas has always thought of her as a beautiful and competent woman, but has never held anything more for her than feelings of friendship. 

                 “Have you even _tried_ getting out there and asking a guy out? They either call you a fag or they immediately try to fuck you right then and there,” Thomas exaggerated. 

                “Stop being a whiny bitch Thom! I’m not going to make your dick fantasies come true, haven’t you noticed? I have a vagina and only a vagina- no penis. If you want dick, go get it.” Sif replied, nonplussed. She was tired of Thom’s shit and she walked out of the room without a backwards glance.

                “Hey, where are you going?” Thomas calls out.

                “To fix your life problems,” She replies sarcastically.

                Apparently, “fix your life problems” meant setting Thomas up on a questionable dating website.             

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, look at us starting a new fic when we haven't even finished our other one yet. We're terrible people.


End file.
